Of a Youthful Mind
by Marilolo
Summary: Shortly after giving birth to her second child, Scarlett is surprised, late one night, by a very unwelcome visitor. AU encounter.
1. Chapter I

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Gone With the Wind_, sadly. I'm just a novel junkie with a lot of free time.

Hello, all! This is my first time writing a GWTW piece, and I just wanted to say hi, and that everyone's stories are great! All of your ideas are just brilliant (and I just _can't_ have enough Scarlett/Rhett, you know!).

**On this story: **It's an AU (alternate universe) encounter, meaning that it never happened, but it's fitted into real events that took place in GWTW. Takes place after Ella's birth, if anyone's confused. .And yes, it is a one-shot.

Oh, and of course, feedback would be truly, truly appreciated.

Thanks and cheers,

-Marilolo

- - -

Scarlett had never seen the sky rain so furiously. Its gray-streaked cheeks were billowing and lolling, thundering and roaring like a thousand Spartan warriors, crying raindrops that splattered along the streets and on the head of every passerby. Knees brought up to her chest, hands clasped, her dark hair spilled in waves as she tilted her head to the side, Scarlett stared blankly into the raging ambiance of a certain storm. She heard her newborn baby, Ella, sobbing for its mother in the next room, but Scarlett stayed quite still, listening as the shrieks turned louder and more desperate with each passing minute. She felt her blood begin to boil and her head pound as she heard the signs of life that she had been unwilling to create. God, what a horrid waste of nine months. A woman's life was too short, and - in Scarlett's case - too valuable to waste even a second on such stupid, silly things as pregnancy and child-birthing. She was still unsure how it had all come about, anyway, whenever she woke up in the middle of the night and thought to herself, "God's Nightgown, I married Frank Kennedy."

As these unpleasant memories stirred in her mind, Scarlett heard the sound of a carriage approaching the house and quickly averted her eyes from the window, drawing behind the shutter to keep out of sight. If Frank was coming home early from his meeting, she did not want to be seen awake at this hour, with her baby sobbing in the next room, and her eyes tired and weary. She held her breath as a sharp knock reverberated inside the small house, and waited in silence before it was heard again. A visitor, at this hour? Scarlett rubbed her shoulders. She was alone in the house – Frank, of course, was gone, and Mammy was at Melanie's, on invitation to take care of Beau for the night. He was unwell, a minor fever at the most, but Melanie, with an almost upsetting amount of concern that Scarlett did not even attempt to understand, had requested Mammy's presence there at least until tomorrow.

A third knock and Scarlett hoisted her rounded, recovering body from its sitting position and made her way down the staircase, draping a shawl around her shoulders. Her bare feet plodded on the wooden floor, muffled by the sound of heavy rain.

How dreadful and dowdy she must look! She pinched her cheeks and rubbed her eyes, but she knew it would be no use. The effects of sleepless nights and hard hours in labor were completely prominent, to her dismay, but she supposed she could not expect anything better. And her visitor! Scarlett was only heartened by that fact that he or she would _surely_ understand, considering that they took the liberty to call at such a late hour, when most proper citizens were bound to be deep in slumber.

At the fourth knock, Scarlett swore under her breath. Composing herself, she smoothed her bush of unruly hair and opened the door. She took one look at her visitor, turned red, and desperately tried to cover herself with her shawl.

"Rhett!" she hissed angrily.

Rhett's eyes swept across her body before he met her gaze. His smirk was evident as he drawled, "You needn't show modesty with me, my dear," and swept off his hat, entering the house. Scarlett crossed her arms and moved back a step. "My God, what have you done with this place? It's barely a shack."

Scarlett huffed and shot defensively, "What are you doing here? At this hour?"

He raised his eyebrows at her flushed cheeks and smiled. "I assure you, if you are _still_ embarrassed about being in that nightgown (and is that actually _warm_? It's quite scanty), I have seen many women with and without their shimmies, and am not at all surprised by your ... _anatomy_." His white teeth flashed in a provocative smile as Scarlett glared at him in embarrassment and rage.

"You – you – vile, disgusting cad! How dare you!"

Rhett laughed loudly and Scarlett almost looked out the window, as if afraid of seeing her neighbors with their faces pressed against the glass. "Come now, my embittered child, is that a way to treat your guests?"

Scarlett set her mouth, her bosom heaving, her green eyes flashing. "If you came here to harass me, Rhett, I don't want to hear it. State your business and leave."

"I heard that your child was born recently," he said obligingly, sporting an unreadable expression. "I wanted to pay you a visit."

Scarlett struggled between smiling at this and trying to find another way to insult him. Smiling won out, reluctantly, and she turned away to hide her expression.

"Yes, yes, she was. Barely a few days ago."

"You must be exhausted," he stated empathetically; then, as if checking himself, continued coolly; "but I suppose all mothers are. It's a woman's life ambition - to give birth and create life. It's an instinct that drives some girls mad for husbands."

Scarlett harrumphed, her ill mood returning at his words. "Fiddle-dee-dee! I've never wanted a child in my life!"

Rhett laughed at this, his black eyes amused. "And yet, you manage to produce them all the same. You delight me, Scarlett, naivety and bluntness included. And, if I were to give you some advice it would be this: you need a husband you love. The children will just ... come naturally. But I suppose you are too young to understand." He stared at her for a moment, scrutinizing her, and said suddenly, with a burst of almost self-reproaching laughter, "Ha! But when have you ever listened to me? Forgive me, Scarlett, for believing you cleverer than you actually are."

Deeply offended and mortified, she snapped, "What do you know about love, Rhett Butler? If you hadn't already noticed, I happen to love Frank –"

"Oh, damn Frank!" said Rhett harshly, unexpectedly; for a moment, Scarlett's heart fluttered as his strong hands took her shoulders as if to shake her. "You love him no more than you would love a mule. It was his store and business you wanted, and now that it's _your_ money that's paying the taxes, you wouldn't care if he dropped dead on the sidewalk, just as long as he put you in his will."

Scarlett could not avoid the truth in his words, but said, all the same, "What do you take me for, Rhett? I would be heartbroken if he died –"

"No," Rhett interrupted bitterly, "no, Scarlett, you would be heartbroken that you couldn't wear fashionable clothes and prance around like a spoiled child." He sneered at her. "Oh well, cheer up, there would always be Ashley to run to."

Scarlett was so angry she could hardly open her mouth. She jerked herself out of his iron-like grasp and shook with fury. "I'm not going to listen to you. You're absolutely hateful."

"Am I?" Rhett asked. "I _must_ control my behavior. It would be a pity to make myself appear disagreeable."

Scarlett studied him in some amazement. "Are you ever serious?"

Rhett's face was drawn into a truly vexing grin at her question. "Come now, my dear, surely you don't believe I am _all_ bad." As she shook her head, he raised his eyebrows. "Haven't I told you not to look at me with that demure expression? I know what you are thinking. If you think I am awful, say it. 'Go to Hell, Rhett Butler' is also another one of my personal favorites, but you may pick and choose. It's hard to go wrong when you are in a rage, of course – but I can't always have the privilege of seeing you properly incensed, now can I?"

His gleaming eyes were deeply amused, and Scarlett laughed despite herself. "You are too much."

"Well, well. So it may seem." He moved past her and said, "And now, my darling, I have you somewhat settled. Is this scandalous man allowed to see your little girl?"

Scarlett was about to reply that no, Ella was sleeping and it would take God himself to put her back to sleep; but at his sincere expression she gulped down her words. "I suppose."

As she showed Rhett to Ella's room, Scarlett's heart was pounding. Why, exactly, such a nervous feeling came over her, she couldn't tell. It was, perhaps, something in the way he kept looking at her, as if – as if ... Scarlett blushed as the thought crossed her mind ... as if he had wanted to father her children himself. But no, it was impossible. Why would he, of all people, want children? And especially _hers_, after she had so blatantly stated how much she despised them? He had said he wanted her, all that time ago, but Scarlett had thought of it as lust and lust alone, for when she mentioned _love_ he threw up his head and laughed. It was all very confusing.

Scarlett soon shook herself out of this reverie and laughed to imagine Mrs. Merriweather's face if she saw her now, alone in the house with Rhett, in her nightgown, leading him into a bedroom without even the slightest scruple. It was Ella's bedroom, of course, but it would still be considered blasphemy in the eyes of most; and the very thought was so stupid and so odd that Scarlett could hardly contain her giggles.

Rhett was leaning over the crib in the middle of the darkened room, smiling down at Ella, who was fast asleep, her little hand curled over the ear of a small stuffed animal. Her breathing was deep, and there was no sign of her crying fit earlier, except for the tearstains and a reddish face that was softly fading back to pink. Even if for a moment, Scarlett felt a surge of maternal pride; and, catching Rhett's eye she smiled as if to boast, though she did not know why. His face was hidden in the shadows, but it seemed softer, gentler somehow, as if this small child had soothed him into a serene state of consciousness.

There was something about a man fawning over a child that had always been incredibly appealing to Scarlett, however silly it seemed, and the scene with Rhett and Ella was no exception. She no longer felt angry or irritated with him.

The silence was broken by Rhett's voice saying slowly, "Frank must be very happy."

Scarlett bristled at this, but sensing no hostility or hidden meanings, she breathed feely.

"I wouldn't know. He's always at some meeting or another. I hardly see him."

That was more like what I would say, Scarlett thought. She was feeling things that she didn't understand, strange things, and instead of succumbing to them she resorted back to clipped remarks. But, for the first time in her life, perhaps, she actually felt sorry for doing it.

Rhett looked at her. His voice had lost its teasing note and instead sounded melancholy. "Indeed."

Scarlett was not prepared for this short answer, expecting something about how she wouldn't care anyway if Frank was gone or not, that she probably was happier without it – and, upon not receiving any criticism or moral chastisement for her answer, lapsed into a silence tinged with uncertainty. She wanted to say something witty, but her tongue felt like it was tied with chicken-wire.

Moving away from Ella's crib, Rhett sauntered to a wall and leaned against it, watching her. She was glad it was dark in the room, because her cheeks were surely glowing, and she did not feel like being teased at the moment.

"You know, my dear," said Rhett, and the old note in his voice was back, "we would have the most charming children."

Scarlett stared in disbelief at his broad silhouette. "Excuse me?"

He laughed at her. "It is simple math, really. We both have handsome genes. You especially, but you know that already ... ah, Scarlett, just imagine! Green eyes, a dark complexion, thick black hair. Hopefully a girl - I can't stand boys, they're natural hooligans. She would rather wonderful little dimples when she smiled, rich as the Queen of England. Who knows about the parents, but still - a born princess, wouldn't you say?"

She could not tell if he was serious or not, and quickly covered up her awkwardness with a laugh. "I'm sure she would be very pretty, but if you're planning to seduce me, Rhett, it will never work."

Scarlett meant this comment to be nonchalant, as if in passing, but she found his expression unchanged and again unreadable. After a moment, where he seemed to be deep in thought, he smiled slowly and looked penetratingly at her from under his raised brows.

"Again, you frankness is appreciated. Don't fret! I never had the thought of seducing you, my dear, although you have planted the thought pleasantly in my mind –" He paused at her aghast expression and continued, "Rest assured, my darling! It was never my intention. I told you I came to see the baby, and that is what I'm doing."

Scarlett frowned at him, slightly hurt. "You told me that you came to see _me_ –"

"Did I now?" asked Rhett carelessly.

"Well, yes. You heard that I had Ella and you came to see me ..."

Rhett considered this. "Perhaps you're right, but unfortunately for you, that doesn't change my intention." He looked again at the sleeping child, as Scarlett pondered his meaning. "Ella, is it?"

"Yes, named after her grandmother."

Scarlett would offer nothing else, and, turning away from Rhett's gaze, she was suddenly overcome with a terrible pang of sadness that could not be ignored. Her mood was suddenly ominous and she said quietly, to the point, "Well, now that you've seen her, Rhett, it might be best if you left. Frank will be home soon."

His mouth visibly tightened at her words, and Scarlett immediately got the impression that he was trying not to yell out, "Oh, damn Frank!" again at the top of his voice. If he had been any other man, Scarlett would have dimpled and giggled and declared him jealous; but with Rhett – Scarlett didn't know what to make of his thoughts. They were twisted, most certainly, and oh, how he confused her with his double meanings! She was not sure what he meant to say half the time – if what he was saying was compliment or insult, something to be taken lightly or seriously, or if it meant anything at all.

There was a strange shift in the atmosphere of the little room as her thoughts trailed off into oblivion. The rigid unease that Scarlett had brought forth by mentioning Frank's name was gone. All she felt now was an indescribable feeling of nostalgia; she wiped her eyes discreetly and tried to think of something besides Ellen.

"I'm pleasantly surprised, Scarlett," said Rhett's voice from somewhere behind her. He was so close that she could feel the heat from his body, his warm breath on the back of her neck. "I had thought you were a heartless creature, incapable of feeling. In this case, I'm glad to be wrong. It's interesting how much a man is willing to give up – dignity, of course, being vastly important ... money, definitely ... perhaps I could even say his own morals. Women complain of being so often used by men, and I am always up for a good feminine argument, but this one, I'm sorry to say, makes me laugh. Men would crawl on their hands and knees for just one kiss from the girl they loved, abandon their family, break the law. Ha! For women to complain of being used – _I_ say we men are manipulated to do their bidding."

Scarlett could not see the relevance and she said so.

Rhett laughed softly and she felt his hand, unbidden, rake through her dark hair, touching her scalp with his fingertips. The sensation made her shiver. "You are such a child. You have never loved a man, not really, not with such love and lust it hurts just to think his name."

Scarlett wanted to cry out in anger: of course I have! I love Ashley! but Rhett seemed to sense this in her, and when he finally spoke, his voice was deep and soothing, a slow drawl laced with honey, and all thoughts of Ashley were swept from her mind.

"Will you ever grow up, my darling? Every step you take is torture to me, as long as I'm dangling here. You must realize this, Scarlett, that even with your childish inclinations, I can't keep my dignity, money, or morals, even if I haven't a chance of succeeding with you."

Scarlett stiffened at his words.

"So you have read my cryptic message," he said, laughing quietly. "I understand your concern, faithful little wife that you are."

His voice was barely a whisper, and at his last words, Scarlett felt his lips brush against the side of her neck. She suppressed a moan and heard him laugh again. God, would he stop torturing her? Scarlett wanted to jerk herself out of his reach, but was stuck fast.

"You adore attention, don't you, my pet?" he hissed. "I told you that you torture me and it's true. Why don't you run? I will accept a straightforward no; but you ... you just stand there. Where am I to go? What am I to do? That frankness that I admire in you has simply vanished." He stepped closer to her; she could feel him trembling, his breath hot on the back of her neck.

She closed her eyes.

"Turn around, Scarlett."

She was suddenly looking into his dark, handsome face; his black eyes were watching her intently, trying but failing to mask the lust that was hidden there. But beyond that there was something else she couldn't recognize, and Scarlett shivered, afraid that if she tried too hard, she might figure out its meaning. There was always something oddly comforting about ignorance.

"In some ways I am glad you are graced with callowness," Rhett said at last, leaning his head very close to hers. "I can teach you so many things."

Without warning, Rhett had all but swooped down upon her and brought her to him, claiming her lips with his own, laughing against her mouth as she weakened in his arms. Her helplessness in this situation enraged her and she kissed him back forcefully, marveling at the sweetness of him; the feel of his moustache against her upper lip; and oh! How his hands burned against her bare skin! Scarlett barely caught her breath before he was planting kisses over her entire face; from her forehead to her cheeks and the corners of her upturned mouth, along her collarbone and in the indenture behind her ear. It seemed so wrong, so incredibly wrong, but Scarlett was unable to stop, even if she had wanted to try.

As suddenly as it had started, Rhett drew back and Scarlett opened her eyes; she felt so cold, so empty, and she tried to draw him back to her with pleading eyes, but he only laughed.

"You're awful," she said breathlessly.

"As are you, my dear." He took her hand and brought it to his lips. "Sadly, I cannot continue our fun - I have to take my leave –"

Scarlett asked him "why?" before she realized what she had said, and blushed crimson; but Rhett looked quite serious as he said, "Surely, my darling, you hear your husband's carriage?" and swept swiftly out of the room.


	2. Chapter II

**A/N:** You all are way too persuasive! Here you go, here's chapter two. I was determined to keep it at two chapters, but in the process of writing this one (as a _gift_, mind you!), I developed some interesting ideas that couldn't possibly be ignored. So, there you go. I'll write and add on a few more chapters and see where it takes us. Leaving it to the hands of fate – scary, huh?

Anyway, thank you so much for all the heart-warming reviews. Feedback is great, so if you don't mind, click on the little purple button and send me a comment! Enjoy!

- - -

Scarlett lay awake, head spinning, her heart beating in sync with the downstairs mantel clock that always seemed loudest when she was trying to think. The question was not what had happened but why she had let it happen. She was quite furious with herself for letting him in the house in the first place. It had been that, more than anything, which to him must have cried out something along the roots of carnal desire. Or at least, he had twisted the situation to fit that mold. She knew Rhett Butler's character and that in itself should have forbade his entering. And yet – and yet – there was something monstrously exciting about the whole ordeal. It was a scandalous secret and one which she would carry to her grave, forever laughing at the stupid old peahens for their ignorance. Oh, how they would love to get their grimy paws on this! She giggled to herself and burrowed further into her mattress.

Because she did not love Frank she did not consider it downright _sinful_ (and besides, Rhett had forced her, hadn't he?), and what no one knew would not kill them. She knew that God was watching her and that He was busy gnashing His teeth at her, but she was going to Hell anyway and it did not matter. Besides, Rhett would undoubtedly be there too.

Rhett. Scarlett looked out the window at the angry rain outside her window. Ever since he had asked her to be his mistress she had taken it as a sign of his deep devotion towards her, however ill-mannered had he presumed to suggest it, and how much his actions seemed to imply little more than lust. Still, he had shown himself to be thoughtful, and he was interesting company and she _was _fond of him – his swarthy and handsome face, long ago likened to a pirate's, his broad shoulders and strong chest, his whole self the embodiment of thrilling masculinity – there was something exciting and deep-rooted about him, something so abyssal it was impossible to ignore. And, Scarlett thought with a little sigh, he did kiss well. Yes, she was fond of him.

There were some things he said which Scarlett did not understand, but she ignored the more confusing ones by shrugging them off. She did not know what "callowness" was and frankly had no idea what "dignity, money, and morals" had to do with love or lust or whatever he was talking about, but really, how important was it anyway?

Her thoughts didn't seem as serious now and she looked back at the situation as a mother would look at the silly antics of a child. It simply didn't mean anything. Rhett was a man and she was a woman and it was bound to happen.

Even still, she couldn't drive his kiss from her mind.

- - -

The rain continued to pour for the next week, drenching Atlanta and engulfing it in a kind of hazy dreariness that seeped into everyone's hearts. Scarlett was so bored she could scream, rocking Ella carelessly, looking out the window, sighing, feeding Ella, looking out the window, sighing, rocking, sighing, rocking, feeding. Scarlett willed her bloated body to heal because she was close to the point of returning to work, so close that she was beginning to remind Frank of it. Unfortunately, everyone else who had heard had given their two cents as well.

"But _sugar_, you can't be going to the lumber mills in your condition, and with the baby … You know what everyone would say, and it's not proper having a woman work anyway …" "Oh, Scarlett darling, please don't rush yourself! Do give yourself some time to rest! We can look after Wade until you're feeling better …" "Don' you go thinkin' bout goin' to no lumber mills, Miz Scarlett. It just ain't fittin'. You'll plumb wear yoself out an' then what will your po' mammy do? Ah'll have a heart a'tak, Ah will."

No, no, no! Scarlett didn't care about the work or getting too tired. She wanted to leave this wretched house and _do_ something! Only Rhett seemed to understand and he sympathized with her. Or, at least, he offered as much sympathy as he could. She had erupted into a fit of insults one day when Rhett suggested that she just cock the gun and get it over with.

Scarlett had been extremely fond of her word choice that day, and crossed her arms waiting for his apology, however abject, but her paroxysms only seemed to amuse him even more. But he was actually good company, despite her façade of hatred for him. She still thought he was boorish and vile and he made her feel undressed in his presence, but he _was_ a break in the monotony and she really did appreciate him–at least a bit. He made her feel like she was a belle once again, not a bloated two-time mother and window to boot. He brought her presents and he always looked after Wade and Ella whenever they weren't at Melanie's. Wade was especially fond of him and referred to him affectionately as "Uncle Rhett", something that both pleased and annoyed Scarlett, since he could barely mouth "Mother" without cowering in fear before her. She had never felt very sorry about being a callous parent before, but now she was feeling her inadequacies like beestings. How insulting, to think that Rhett Butler could love a child more than her! It was downright offensive and Scarlett tried not to think about it too much. But it was hard, when she looked Rhett's way and saw him leaning against the wall, legs crossed and eyes grinning, with one child standing next to him and the other asleep in his arms.

Frank didn't know that Rhett was visiting her regularly and Scarlett didn't feel the need to tell him. Rhett seemed to memorize some kind of schedule and showed up only as Frank left, though Scarlett did not know how he did this. But the thought would fly from her mind as he appeared on her doorstep with something wonderful, like bon-bons or a new import from Paris. Scarlett oftentimes saw Mammy set her mouth as he entered the door, and she supposed if it wasn't for Melanie's loving approval and the children's obvious attachment, Mammy would send him straight back out with one smack of her umbrella. Scarlett was thankful for one thing, and that was that old Mammy had enough sense to keep her mouth quiet about his visits.

Despite the things he said about "wanting to visit her neglected children" and "giving her gifts for her shallow mind to thrive on", Scarlett honestly didn't know why Rhett bothered coming to see her at all. His visits were very short and usually ended with Scarlett slamming the door as best she could, yelling, "Don't you ever come back! I don't want your stupid gifts! I'll burn them before I begin to enjoy them! You're vile and I hate you!" But as both Scarlett and Rhett knew, she neither hated him nor burned his gifts.

After one memorable moment, during which she had thrown most of her presents at him in a passionate rage, she wondered why such a man still attempted to chase after her even when she was so abusive. She was surprised at herself and swiftly capped the thought, for she was not at all sorry for her behavior and, besides, he too was abusive–though verbally, of course.

It was one day, when they were lounging idly on the porch together, that Scarlett asked him why he kept coming to see her. It had been eating away at her all day and she simply needed to know the answer.

But he only grinned at her, took a puff of his cigar, and said smoothly: "I think you know why."

It was fun to pretend that he was chasing after her like her beaux had done so many years ago at Tara, and for her own vanity Scarlett wished he really was in love with her. It would be simply delicious to be in charge, in control, forever laughing and dragging him along like a marionette.

"Oh, Rhett, don't be mean. Tell me why."

His gaze traveled to her lips. His voice was low. "Kiss me and I'll tell you."

Scarlett felt outraged at this, but kept at her game. She pouted. "Why, Rhett, what a thing to say! Mammy is watching and she would sure tell Frank!"

She reveled in the effect this had on him, but then a split second later, he was laughing at her and she had lost her power. "Sometimes I wonder at you, Scarlett," he said, his voice becoming soft and serious. "You have but two simple tactics and yet I still am drawn in, if even for a moment. You must know why I come to see you, my dear. I am determined to win you and have you as my own. Ever since that day at Twelve Oaks –"

"You are foul to remember that for all these years," Scarlett informed him, dropping the game. He chuckled and neared his face so closely to hers she thought he might kiss her again. She felt a shocking little chill dance up her spine and felt an odd urge to tilt her head so he may.

"Oh, I know," said Rhett carelessly, black eyes glittering. "Blackmail is foul, so foul that I would not have used it but for that circumstance. If I could not trap you, could not incense you, how could I ever see you again? I knew from experience your amiable and becoming temper, so I also knew that you would pounce on me like a duck on a June bug if I was insolent enough to discuss it. Thank God I'm not a gentleman. I suppose Ashley hasn't discussed that day with you. Ironic, isn't it, that I am the one sitting with you on this porch, receiving all your charms?"

At that point Scarlett stood up, red-faced, and angrily ordered him to leave. With a kiss for her hand and a mock bow, he set off obligingly, and Scarlett could only breathe freely when he disappeared around the corner.

What did he want from her? Hadn't she told him she would not consent to being his mistress? Hadn't he given up? Why did he torture her so? What was the purpose of coming if only to be sent away in disgrace? Why was he so nice one moment and brazen the next? Why, why, why?

I'll think about it tomorrow, thought Scarlett as she climbed the stairs, watched by a disapproving Mammy; there's no point thinking about it now. I'll just get a headache. Tomorrow it will all seem clear. Oh, how I wish I could just _slap_ him!

- - -

It was about a month into her child-induced damnation that Scarlett was able to return to work amid the nervous flutters of Melanie, the stern tight-lipped dissatisfaction of Mammy, and the reluctant looks from Frank. She felt so happy to be useful that she even endured Mammy's incessant mumbling and Ella's crying. It was a small price to pay for what it was worth, and besides, she was finally able to see Ashley!

For sure, he was always inexplicably aloof these days, but it was enough for Scarlett to watch him covertly from her desk as he organized papers, knowing as surely as she knew anything that one day he would be hers. Rhett talked of keeping Scarlett as his own, _winning_ her, but that was impossible. Hell would freeze over before she willingly gave into Rhett's demands. It was as simple as that. Rhett occupied her mind, excited her, challenged her, but … but Ashley was different. He occupied a different place–her heart. There was nothing that could change that, absolutely nothing.

Rhett had finally ceased showing up at her home, to Mammy's relief, instead cornering her after work and insisting to drive her home in her carriage. _Insisting, _perhaps, being an understatement, but nonetheless Scarlett let him. If he pined away for her the rest of his life until it killed him, so be it, but that wasn't going to stop her from having her fun. She only felt remorse that he did not show a weakness, and soon, she began to look forward to seeing him. He was merely driving her home, but in that there was still something scandalous; and Scarlett, who expected Rhett to wreck some kind of moral havoc wherever he went, positively giggled with glee at the latent chaos they were creating because of it.

And sometimes, if she concentrated especially hard, she might see something in Rhett's black eyes that reminded her of the night he kissed her, when it was not she who was naked but he, the cold-blooded man, wearing his heart on his sleeve.

She thought about this for a long time but it always ended up in a circle, with contradictions outweighing rationale ten to one, headaches, and aggravated declarations of "Great balls of fire! I can't think about this now! I'll think about it tomorrow!" Sometimes Rhett's own mysteries frustrated her even more than Ashley's aloofness and that, in itself, was hard to believe.

- - -

Quite sadistically of the weather, Scarlett endured a positively horrendous day on the first day of sunshine for weeks. She could pinpoint it not on any one thing and that, more than anything, made it supremely frustrating. Scarlett supposed that it had something to do with the fact that Mammy had measured her waist and it still wasn't in its best form. Or maybe it was the fact that Ella had been crying all night. Or maybe it was because Melanie had gone to visit Ashley at the mill with Beau at her heels, and that his face had lit up more than it had in days. Or maybe it was the fact that Rhett didn't drive her home yesterday for some reason or another and she would have liked company. Scarlett felt a surge of anger. He was probably at that Watling woman's place–not that she was jealous, she thought quickly. It just chafed her to think that he had been out doing God knows what at the same time she could have used his company. It was very selfish.

In the old days Scarlett would have used something like this to her advantage. She would have met him face on, said what she meant to say about his being selfish and mean, began to cry, and maybe, just maybe, if he seemed sincere enough and she liked him, she would let him kiss her. With Rhett the idea was laughable. Scarlett had a feeling that if he wanted to kiss someone he would kiss someone. He wouldn't wait for their permission.

As soon as he came by Scarlett went in the carriage, finding it rather odd that he had not taken the top off for the sun, but altogether relieved he had not found an excuse to forget to drive her home. Her expression was stony as she settled her skirts and sat next to him. For some reason she found herself struggling not to cry.

"We meet again, my dear," said Rhett, grinning at her. "So, how many times has it been now, where you've told me you hated me and I am welcomed back with open arms?"

"Oh, don't tease me, not right now," cried Scarlett, tears welling up in her eyes, unbidden. "I've had a terrible day and I can hardly stand it!"

"My darling!" said Rhett, pulling the horses to a halt and gathering her in his arms. His voice had changed suddenly. "What is it?"

"I h-hate children," said Scarlett, soothed by his warm, solid chest. "And I hate being m-married. It's h-hard to explain," she said, realizing how strange it was for her to be crying over such petty things. "Oh, Rhett! I don't know why I'm so upset but I just want to cry and cry! It's just … life has gotten so _pointless_!"

"Marriage," said Rhett absently, "is a very confining thing. But no matter," he said, smoothing down the top of her head and laying his cheek gently against her hair. "Now don't cry, Scarlett. Calm down, my darling, calm down. Here." He handed her a handkerchief and she blew her nose. She collapsed with a sigh against him and closed her eyes. Her head pounded and she would have liked nothing better than to fall asleep, but for sake of dignity she willed against it.

She was almost completely cradled against him, small and childlike, snuggled against his body for protection, and for a moment she wondered why she should find solace in him and not her own husband.

"Is there anything else I should know before I start teasing you again, my pet?" Rhett asked of her, clicking the horses forward.

"Oh, please don't," cried Scarlett, dismayed. "I swear I shall cry again if you tease me!" She felt a tremor go through him, like the rumble of an earthquake, and satisfied, she realized he was laughing. She had never heard him laugh so gently before and it was that which ultimately calmed her.

"If I was not married I could kiss you for being so nice," Scarlett told him after a moment.

Rhett smirked at her so that his eyes gleamed frivolously. "You little tease. It doesn't matter if you're married or not – you hardly had any objections before."

"It didn't mean anything," said Scarlett, unconsciously repeating her thoughts for him. "You are a man and I am a woman and it was late at night and we were in a bedroom …"

Rhett let out a laugh that sounded like a sharp bark. "Oho! So that's what the ladies think! I'm amazed at you, Scarlett. Men are not animals – just because we go into a bedroom doesn't mean we are being tempted. If we are not attracted to a girl it would not matter if we were in a bedroom or a kitchen. I assure you, I was not out of control. I kissed you purposefully. If I had not wanted to kiss you, I would not have kissed you. Please do not complicate it, my dear, it is really very simple."

"Oh." She felt rather numb. She had not thought a man chemically capable of such vulgar frankness, even Rhett Butler. "I suppose you think you can just kiss me whenever you please," she said, a bit defensively.

"Of course not! Where would the fun be in that? No, I will wait until you want me to kiss you."

"What if I don't want you to kiss me?"

"Then we'll wait and see." He drew in the reins and helped her down from the carriage."Your stop, Scarlett. I'll see you tomorrow."

Remembering herself, Scarlett whirled around andopened her mouth to thank him, but he had already driven away.


	3. Chapter III

Thanks to all the reviewers, especially thekorapersonality. Your review was exactly the kind of feedback I like to hear. Thank you for putting forth the effort, I really appreciate it. And to everyone else – it's good to hear that I'm writing Rhett and Scarlett in character. That means a lot.

Anyway, without further ado, Part III.

-

It felt simply heavenly to be working again, to be useful and contribute, to get rid of babies and crying and sticky, sweaty nightgowns. True, Scarlett thought wistfully, she did not work every day as she used to, but it didn't seem to matter as much. Melanie and Mammy were more than happy to look after Wade and Ella while she was away. She found herself having more energy to take care of her children in a way that she never thought was possible. After her episode with Rhett, Scarlett was more determined than ever to show him she was as clever as any businessman and twice as shrewd. She also wanted him to see her acting kind with her children. If only – if only she had the time and patience to take Wade out somewhere. But life was much too important to waste on silly things like entertaining one's child.

But why did she care about what Rhett thought, anyhow? Of course, it wouldn't do to have something in which he could grasp the upper hand, lest he tease and harass her, but – Scarlett wished away the thought quickly. She mustn't get ahead of herself; the whole calamity that was Rhett was confusing. She did not need to single out this small detail in particular. Rhett was a friend and she wanted to look, well, _good_ in front of him. There was no other word for it.

Scarlett _was_ thankful that Rhett was no longer showing up at the house, for all her earlier lack of sympathy. True, she did not love Frank, but she held a kind of begrudging respect and fondness for him, for all that he had done for her and Tara. The prying eyes of the neighborhood peahens, at least, were not focused solely on her. For that she was grateful. And Mammy had stopped glaring disapprovingly at her; though, from time to time, she could be heard shifting from room to room in her heavy bulk, mumbling: "Gawd Almighty, Ah don' know why mah lamb co'sort wid dat white tras' Butler …"

Scarlett grew up listening to Mammy's angry mumblings, and though she was indignant as to Mammy calling Rhett "white trash" (how dare she categorize him with that whore, Emmie Wilkerson, and her bastard brats?), it did not matter too much. It was hardly worth picking a fight over. Scarlett had learned to choose her battles with Mammy and this was not one of them.

So Rhett's honor went undefended, but somehow Scarlett knew he would not mind. He would probably laugh, like he always did when such trivial things were presented to him, and say something about how honor was hardly worth Mammy's wrath anything. What fools to think of honor, when there were more important things at hand! He would then look at her, and in those few words Scarlett would grasp helplessly at an allegoric meaning far above her own understanding. More important things? Why, like money, and food, and the knowledge that you have escaped with your life! That was important!

Honor. Honor. Yes, Scarlett thought, I despise the word. But, oh! Ashley, Ashley, my darling Ashley! Why can you not do away with that honor? It is honor that keeps you from me, the hateful word! but I suppose … I suppose … if you had no honor, you would be just like Rhett. And I don't love Rhett! I love you!

Scarlett paused in her thoughts. This was puzzling, this business of honor.

"I'll think about it later; later, when my head is cleared," she thought quickly. "It's no use now. I'll just confuse myself more."

Scarlett thought it supremely clever of her not to mention these kind of musings to Rhett, tempted though she was. His status as her confidante had not allowed him sacred privileges yet, like hearing all about her internal struggles with Ashley's morality and honor. She knew he would only sneer at her and she didn't want sneering. She wanted comfort. And she wanted Ashley most of all, though how, _how_ she would get him, she did not know. Her only plan was to wait and see. The universe would right itself, she just knew it. She would get Ashley and when she and Rhett went to Hell, she would laugh in his face until the Devil himself had to shut her up.

-

"Scarlett. I have to talk to you."

Scarlett was in the middle of adding up a column of figures when Ashley approached her one afternoon with this request. As soon as his soft voice fell upon her ears she paused in her work, and, sighing, spoke with irritation barely concealed.

"I tell you, Ashley, I _must_ lease convicts. I simply have to do it. If you can think of some way to – to – con the Freedman's Bureau into letting us work the free darkies, then I'll listen. But, you know I need this money and they're dirt cheap. I –"

Scarlett turned around quickly and faced him when he did not interrupt her, set off-kilter by his abnormal silence and tension. She had a strange feeling that he had not been concentrating on her words. His eyes were fierce and something in his clenched fists told her that he had been summoning up the courage to say something to her. She had never seen him look so determined and it pleased her that he should be upset on her behalf. She clenched her ledger in her hand and watched him eagerly. Everything she had ever learned, everything that ever had been silly enough to seem important, seemed to fly out of her head. Her heart sang triumphantly: He loves me! He loves me! There was nothing else that mattered.

"You have to stop seeing him."

For a moment this didn't register with Scarlett and she stared at him in shock. Stop seeing who? Frank? She had expected a declaration of love but not an immediate order! Scarlett laughed. He sounded like Rhett, saying that.

She froze. _You have to stop seeing him_. Rhett. Good Lord! Ashley knew! Scarlett felt foolish for thinking that he had not known that Rhett had been visiting her (after all, the fat old cats chattered and blabbed more than chickadees), but somehow, she had believed, truly believed, that he had been impervious to idle gossip.

"Oh, Ashley, don't be a goose," said Scarlett, smiling good-naturedly. "I do business with Rhett, that's all. I mean, I do hate to tell you now, but he did lend me the money to buy this mill, and –"

"Scarlett, please."

She stopped and drew back her hand that had crept to his arm. He looked torn and his mouth turned down in a frown that broke her heart, lest he think any less of her for her past deeds.

"When will you stop thinking about money, Scarlett?" Ashley asked her quietly, rhetorically. "It is one thing to marry a man you don't love, but to gallivant about with Rhett Butler is to bury forever that dignity and pride that I so love in you. He can break you, Scarlett, and if you fall, I will not be far behind. I have neither your strength nor your spirit, you know that. You have always known that. For years you have been everything that I have not. You have triumphed and excelled in a world that has jeered at me, for all my dreams of the old way … And I know, I know … Scarlett, you have always been my rock, the point at which I could look and see myself for who I was, observe everything in perspective. You are the embodiment of a world changing, and you … oh, you brave girl, you took it for what it was and you flourished." He put his face in his hands. "And I – how I wish I could have been brave for you – and Melanie."

"Don't talk like that, Ashley," said Scarlett, feeling disappointed that this had gone to a level she could not understand. This kind of talk always bored her. "Rhett Butler could never break me. He's a fool to think he can. But let's not talk about this, Ashley, it depresses me –"

Ashley lifted up her chin and his warm hands sent a chill spiraling through her. He seemed not to have heard her. "Oh, my dear, how naïve you are! Men like Rhett Butler are animals. It makes my skin crawl to think what he might have done to you, had you been –" Ashley broke off awkwardly. "Scarlett, please, if you appreciate me at all – send him away and never speak with him again. It will give me some reassurance."

_Men are not animals. Men are not animals. _Rhett's words floated through her mind. Yes, stupid though it seemed, she believed him. It was hard to rebuke a man so firm in his statements that left no room for loopholes or arguments. Scarlett looked at Ashley and showed her dimples.

"Don't be silly, Ashley. Rhett is perfectly safe." She placed the ledger on the table. "Besides, Melly trusts him."

And with a twist of her head to set her earrings jangling tantalizingly, Scarlett walked from the room.

-

Scarlett felt like singing, dancing, laughing, kissing – _anything _to show how happy she was, that this day was going so perfectly she wanted to yell like Gerald used to, as he rode home drunk and slovenly and jumped each fence along the way. She had known it; she knew that Ashley loved her, whatever he might say about honor. And although she had understood less of it than she dared admit, it felt like a holiday. To think that he had sought her out, begging her to stay away from Rhett – why, that was simply delicious! Scarlett almost wanted to tell Rhett how much he had failed; that he had caused Ashley, by his presence, to stand up and declare that their relationship was causing him utmost distress.

Yes, it was ironic and funny, and would feel so satisfying to point out, but Scarlett would have to keep it to herself. If only Rhett liked Ashley! Then she could talk all day long and he would be supportive.

She spotted his carriage and walked over to him, straightening her bonnet and fixing her gloves, feeling like she would explode with the joy that filled her at seeing that swarthy face.

"Either you want something or you have inherited a great deal of money from one of your dead relatives," said Rhett as soon as he helped her inside; but though his voice was jeering, he seemed pleased at her happiness. "So what is it, Scarlett? I have a strange feeling that my presence not the cause of this euphoria."

"I can have a good day, can't I?"

Rhett watched her, amused. "Yes, you're right, but I'm still rather suspicious. Oh, don't frown so, dear heart, you look like a cat. I know you, and I know that even your avarice seldom makes you this happy, when you do happen to snare something worthwhile. So tell me, or I will have to squeeze it out of you. Did Queen Mab visit you with dreams of the honorable Mr. Wilkes?"

"No," said Scarlett, lifting up her chin.

He leaned closer to her, grinning like a lithe panther about to strike. His eyes flashed mockingly. "I see."

Scarlett sniffed. "There is nothing _to_ see. I had a good day at the mills. Besides, I like feeling useful – and being away from Aunt Pitty's once in a while."

Rhett shook his head and laughed. "The joys of motherhood never did hold their charms for you, did they, my dear? Little Wade Hampton is a perfect example of that. Scared out of his wits at the thought of his own mother but calls someone like me Uncle." He clicked his tongue in mock admonishment and raised his eyebrows at her. "What _is_ this world coming to?"

"I never do see your point," Scarlett told him haughtily. "You ramble on and on and I have to be getting home."

"My point? Do I have to have a point? Perhaps I tease you because you interest me, Scarlett. Perhaps I go out of my way to drive you home because I care. Think outside that box which is your mind sometimes, my darling, because the world is a very complex place."

Scarlett sighed impatiently. "Oh, do stop talking and drive on, Rhett, or I will take the reins myself."

Rhett turned his face towards her, and she was frightened to see that his eyes were dark with restrained emotion, his knuckles that grasped the reins pale and white. When he spoke, his voice was low and his eyes flashed dangerously. "You will do no such thing."

Scarlett, overcome by the male authority in his voice, fell silent and dropped her eyes.

"Tell me what really happened," Rhett demanded.

"I did –"

"Tell me, damn you!"

Scarlett pursed her lips and glared at him. Rhett's jaw set angrily.

"So you and Mr. Wilkes crossed paths again. What did he say to you?"

Scarlett took up the gauntlet icily. She longed to spit into his swarthy face. "He said that he didn't want me to see you again, and that he was afraid for me whenever you were around."

"As he should be," Rhett said, sneering at her in a humorless way. "Well, well, Scarlett. How happy this must have made you! This concern for your safety is very lover-like of him, isn't it? Frankly, I'm surprised he was so bold as to mention it. On the other hand, my little charmer, think of it rationally. He's already had to endure the bland Charles and the old man Frank tainting your body … the 'object of his desire', if I dare suggest … I suppose I was just one too many –"

Scarlett's body pulsed with white-hot fury. "You – you dare –"

"Yes, I dare," Rhett whispered, leaning close, watching her eyes like a hawk watching its prey. His black gaze was burning holes through her skin. "I dare because I myself cringe to think of you in the arms of another man. But I could endure that – yes, even that – if I knew that I had what really mattered. Oh, does it amaze you, Scarlett? You look surprised."

Scarlett raised herself taller in the carriage. "Well, I am surprised, if it comes to that. You know what I think of your … well, you do …"

"Lust after whores?" Rhett said uninterestedly. "Go ahead and say it, my dear, I'm not offended. How could I be offended because of something I know myself?"

"I will not have this conversation with you," snapped Scarlett furiously. "If you were even half decent you would try to – to – hide it or something."

Rhett laughed. "I'm afraid I can no more hide it than you can sheath your pretty claws, Scarlett. Don't be a hypocrite, it's not very becoming." She frowned and he laughed again, harshly. "Do you understand what I'm telling you, or shall I spell it out plainly? Just nod yes or no, if you feel the need to avoid speaking to me."

"I won't avoid it! I just don't understand why –"

"So, you don't know. I thought as much." Scarlett listened, reluctantly interested, but instead of continuing like she thought he would, he lapsed into silence and set the horses off at a trot. Disappointed, she leaned against the back of the carriage and watched his broad shoulders sway with the movement of the horses. She wished she were analytical so she could figure out what he meant by his strange behavior, but even if she did know, how rewarding could it possibly be? Why couldn't they talk about fun things, like fashion and money, and criticize the peahens behind their backs with a vengeance? Scarlett didn't want to talk about Ashley with Rhett – well, she did, in a mean way, but it never turned out how she planned it. Rhett always had a way of turning the tables and laughing at her for it.

Scarlett tried to think back to the beginning of their conversation. How could he get angry with her for being happy? She had thought he had not known that she had encountered Ashley but somehow he always seemed to know when she encountered him. If she didn't know any better she might think he was dogging her footsteps, but that was silly – not even Rhett would stoop that low. He would have better things to do, anyway, like hovering around that creature's place . . .

Scarlett wished she knew what really mattered to him, but that was another mystery, and she was not in the mood for analyzing anyway.


End file.
